


A Midsummer Blight's Dream

by welseykels



Series: Multi-Chapters [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-04-27 04:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5033383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welseykels/pseuds/welseykels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Dragon Age Modern Theatre AU: When Redcliffe Community Theatre suddenly loses its director for their staging of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Garrett Hawke talks his cousin, Mira Amell, into helping save the production.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 9 Weeks Before Opening Night

**Author's Note:**

> [Check out my writing masterpage on tumblr!](https://welseykels.tumblr.com/writing)

Art by [captainceranna](http://captainceranna.tumblr.com/post/130653092747/i-had-the-great-privilege-of-making-the-banner-for).

* * *

 

“That’s it, I quit.  Find someone else to run this trainwreck you insist on calling a play!  I’ve had it with the lot of you!”

Cullen sunk down in his chair, running his hand over his face as Duncan stormed out of the theatre.  A director walking out on his play?  This was not good.  This was horrible.

And it was all Garrett Hawke’s fault.

He had been fighting with the crew all morning - all week for that matter.  Half the crew was threatening to walk from the project if Garrett didn’t stop walking around like he owned the place, ordering them about.  And they very well could leave.  It wasn’t like they were being paid much.  None of the crew were.  And the actors - the actors were all volunteers.  They all had their own jobs, the play a fun hobby to occupy their evenings.

Well, it had used to be fun.  Cullen was thankful that he was at least getting some sort of compensation for this.

He cast a glance towards Alistair, hoping that he’d be able to break the tenuous silence that had settled over everyone with a joke, but instead he found his friend frowning, throat clenching, and eyes red.  Duncan had been like a father to Alistair, and to see him give up… well Cullen would find no help from him.  At least not now.  Sighing, he stood from his seat, moving down to the stage where everyone else had gathered. 

“So what happens now?”  Emmalee Trevelyan, the pretty lead actress who Cullen had been shyly avoiding over the past few weeks, spoke up.

A chorus of ‘is it cancelled?’ and ‘are we done?’ came from the gathered crowd of cast and crew.  And well, Cullen didn’t have a good answer.  It should be Alistair making the decision, he was the assistant director after all.  But he wasn't making the decision.  And without Aveline here as the administrative head, the responsibility fell on Cullen’s stage managing shoulders alone.

“If we can find a new director, this doesn’t have to be over.  Anyone?”

He glanced back at Alistair, knowing his friend would not want to completely lead himself, but hoping that he would anyways.  It was the simplest solution.  Cullen could even help him.

When no one spoke up, he sighed.  “Anyone at all?”

He cringed when he heard Garrett’s voice, hoping he wasn’t volunteering.  “Look I can fix this if no one wants the job.  My cousin has directed before.  She could help us.”

“Your cousin?”

“Ever heard of Mira Amell?”  He wiggled his eyebrows at Cullen, knowing full well that he had.  “She did that big play in Denerim last year.   _Denerim News_  jokingly called her the Hero of Ferelden - it was that good.”

Cullen could feel the blood draining from his face.  He hadn’t realized the Hawkes were related to the Amells.  Mira Amell.  He hadn’t seen her in years, not since…

Alistair broke his thoughts as he sat forward in his seat, apparently happy that he wasn’t been forced into anything.  “And how in the Void do we convince her to direct for our community theatre?  We can’t afford the Hero of Ferelden.”

Hawke waved a hand to dismiss him, pulling out his cellphone.  “I’ve got this.”

* * *

 

Mira’s hand snuck out of her blankets when her phone began to ring.  For Maker’s sake, who would be calling her?  She had an early meeting tomorrow with a new up-and-coming playwright and she needed to sleep if she was going to be coherent at all for the ungodly hour it was scheduled at. 

Wriggling out from under the body of Bruno, her mabari, she sat up in bed, groaning as Garrett Hawke’s bearded face graced her phone’s screen.  She was tempted to ignore the call, but if she knew her cousin - and she did unfortunately - he’d keep calling until he got an answer.

Already regretting it, she tapped to accept the call.  "What?"

“Who’s your favourite cousin?”

“Not you, Garrett.”

A scoff from the other end.  "Well, that's just rude, Meer."

“What do you want?”

Bruno lifted his head from her feet at her tone, a concerned whine rippling through his muzzle.  Her free hand moved to scratch around his ears, calming the old hound.   

“Well, you see, I’m a part of this community theatre - the lead actor actually - just down the highway from Lothering… in Redcliffe."

“And?”

“The director just quit.”

“And?”  She knew what he would be asking soon, hoping that she was wrong.  She had that meeting tomorrow morning.  This new opportunity could change her life.  Sure, her last play had had her name in all the papers, but this - this would be on a new level.  “Garrett, I don’t like where this is going.”

_Please don’t ask.  Please don’t ask.  Please don’t ask._

“I need you to step in and direct… since it was sort of my fault he left and... I told everyone I’d fix it.”

_He asked._

Her eyes rolled, she was right about what he wanted.  “Of course the director quitting would be because of you.”

“Again Meer, rude.”

“Look, Garrett, things are going really well for me here, I can’t just pick up and -"

“At least just come down and check it out.  There’s no harm in that.  Next rehearsal is tomorrow afternoon.”  A sigh when there was only silence from her.  “I didn’t want to do this Meer, but you owe me.”

* * *

 

The drive was longer than she had expected to Redcliffe from Denerim, the traffic heavy on the Imperial Highway.   She tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel to the music drifting from the radio, she’d be there soon. 

Hopefully.

She thought about the meeting that should have been that morning, thankfully they’d agreed to post-pone it by a week.  They were glad actually, the playwright wanting to do some final changes. 

She’d promised Garrett that she would arrive to observe a rehearsal, nothing more.  She didn’t have to stay in Redcliffe.  She could watch the one rehearsal, and then leave.  And come back to her life that she was making for herself in Denerim. 

And at this rate with the traffic this slow, she’d be more likely to miss the rehearsal than make it there.  She was almost relieved at the thought - almost.  If she missed it today, Garrett would make her come to the next one.

An hour and a half later, she was pulling into the parking lot.  Maker, the theatre was huge!  Garrett had certainly downplayed how nice it was.  She wondered how much their community theatre group was paying to rent it out, he hadn’t made it sound like they were the resident theatre company for the building.  It was practically a cathedral, the stonework and intricate glass patterns beautiful as she stepped from her car and approached it.  She’d never known that this was in Redcliffe, had only been in Ferelden for the past few months since she’d moved back to the Free Marches after well...

But her boarding school had only been across Lake Calenhad from here, how had she never known?  Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, she found herself in a vestibule as equally beautiful as the exterior. 

A small raven haired girl sat at the front desk, tattoos swirling over her face.  She greeted Mira with a bright smile.  “Oh, you must be Mira!  They’ve been expecting you in the main theatre.  Just through the door to my left.”  She hastily stood to take Mira’s hand, shaking it before coming around the desk for a hug that Mira hadn’t quite expected.  “And oh silly me!  I’m Merrill.  If there’s anything you need let me know.”

Mira liked her already.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay here and help after all.

She regretted that thought as soon as she walked into the back of the theatre.

"Fuck you, Garrett."

"Wouldn't you like that, asshole!"

A blonde man with his back to her had his hand pressed against Garrett's chest, holding him back as his other hand kept a completely paint covered man from taking a wing at her cousin.

This was a mess.

She came. She saw. She had decided ‘no’. She could tell Garrett that.

She was not getting herself involved in whatever shit-show he had made, even if every fiber of her being was screaming for her to help.  _Curse her need to fix things._

She turned to leave, taking her chance that Garrett hadn’t seen her yet before she changed her mind, colliding with something solid.  Large hands gripped her upper arms, keeping her from losing her footing as she bounced back from the collision. 

“I’m sorry.”  She mumbled against the fabric of what she now knew was a t-shirt.

She leaned back, the hands still holding her, reading what was written on the shirt:  _‘Cheese built this body’._ The fabric was deliciously taut over his chest.   _Cheese certainly did a good job, a very good job._   Her eyes widened a little,  _where had that thought come from?_

His voice broke her from her increasingly inappropriate thoughts.  “Quite a sight, aren’t they?  You must be Mira.”  A lopsided grin greeted her as she looked up… and up some more.  Maker, he was tall.  He released his hold on her and took a step back, extending one hand out to her.  “Alistair.  I’m the, uh, assistant director.”

She took his hand, a smile tugging at the corner of her own lips without thought.  He held on for a moment longer than she’d expected, a nervous laugh and pink tint spread to his cheeks when he realized he was still holding her hand after the shake had ended.

It was rather cute, actually. 

He nervously scratched the back of his neck when he took his hand back.  “Well, thank the Maker that you actually came.”

She gestured back to the group still arguing behind her. “Is it, is it always like this?”

He laughed, cocking a brow at her.  “You know, one good thing about the theatre is how it brings people together.”


	2. 8 Weeks Before Opening Night - Part 1

If she had told herself a few days ago that she was going to be living in Redcliffe for the next two months in Garrett’s spare bedroom, she would have told herself that she was a bloody liar.

Just after she had met Alistair, Garrett had spotted her, practically bowling her over with a bear hug.  "You came, you actually came!"  He hadn’t let her go until she was squirming in his embrace, finding it hard to breathe with her face pressed against his shoulder.  But she couldn't help the way her heart tugged at the tone in his voice.  Could she really abandon him?  Could she?  

And it was that thought that had led her on a downhill slope to agreeing to stay - to agreeing to stay at Garrett's apartment even. She'd had to drive back to Denerim that night, packing clothing and getting Bruno ready to go with her. At least he'd have a companion in Garrett's own mabari Boris.  She and Garrett had got them as puppies together, the pair brothers from the same litter.  They’d enjoy seeing each other again after years apart.

Then she'd sat, staring at her phone screen, for what felt like hours before dialing to completely cancel her meeting next week. This was ridiculous.  Giving up one of the biggest opportunities in her life to bail her cousin out. And yet… the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to do this.  Life had been hectic with the success of the last play… life had been hectic for the past five years really, maybe slowing down and doing community theatre wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

The writer didn’t take it well.  So next came the call to her elder brother, Gavin, who was currently enjoying his position as a professor at a University in Kirkwall and who she was going to need to talk her into sticking with this now, and not just calling the writer back to apologize and reschedule.

“I’m not even surprised that Garrett roped you into this.”

“I know.”

A laugh.  “The two of you were thick as thieves as kids, so I'm definitely not surprised.  Do it Meer, take things a little slower.  You’ve been running yourself ragged.  Being back in Southern Ferelden might even do you some good.”

And with that she was heading back to Redcliffe in her car with her suitcases and Bruno.

Garrett was out when she’d arrived, her old key to the apartment still on her keyring, he’d made her keep it ‘just in case of an emergency’.  It felt strange to be living in her old room once more, it seemed Garrett had never really used it in the four years since. Her old bed was still there, along with her furniture, abandoned because it had been too much hassle to have brought them back across the sea to the Free Marches.

After she’d unpacked, she started cleaning Garrett's apartment.  If she was going to be living here, again, she was going to pick up some of her old habits.  The dishes were first, those that could were stacked in the dishwasher, the rest by hand.  She played some music as she worked, might have even danced a little with the broom as she swept.  She walked the the dogs, when she only had two hours left to kill.  She had to be at the theatre by three, her chance to formally go around and meet everyone before the rehearsal started for that evening.

She took her time fixing herself up after she returned to the apartment, the pair of mabari cuddling up together in the sun filtering in the window.  Sometimes she wondered if they would have been better as cats.  She tamed as best she could the waves of her hair, and applied some makeup.  She decided to wear what she would have worn to the meeting, black jeans and t-shirt, covered with her favourite burgundy blazer.  She felt good.  

This would be good.

She was humming happily to herself as she pulled into the theatre’s parking lot.

Merrill was seated at the front desk again, an even wider smile spreading across her features as she noticed Mira as she opened the front doors.  

“Hello, again.”

“Hello!  Everyone’s so excited to meet you!”

A redheaded woman stood beside her, dressed in a crisp dress shirt and slack, a hand already extended out to Mira.  “I’m Aveline.  I handle the day to day operation of the theatre… which sometimes means babysitting your cousin, especially after his antics last week.”

“What did he do exactly?  I’ve never actually heard the full story yet.”

A huffed laugh.  “That will be a story for another time.  Right now, I’m to take you on a tour of the building, have you meet some of the regular staff here.”

And with that she was following Aveline around the building, the taller woman set a fast pace, one Mira did her best to keep up to.  First were the set carpenters in the wood shop, Thom Rainer seemed friendly enough, but the taller man with white hair - Sten, Aveline had called him - barely looked in her direction.  Next came the costume shop, where another redhead greeted her, this one with an Orlesian accent - Leliana, her name.  And then the technical booth, where a woman with a seemingly permanent frown resided, introduced as Morrigan.  And then they were back downstairs on the stage itself, Mira wondering just how long this tour lasted when she was approached by a man with… _Maker, was all that chest hair real_?  "Varric Tethras, dramaturg to this little production, expert on all things the Bard.”  He extended his hand with a flourish and Mira couldn't suppress the giggle that left her when she placed her hand in his and he lifted it to his lips to place a brief kiss against her knuckles.  “I’m here at your disposal, since you know we're performing _A Midsummer Night's Dream_.”

Maker, she'd forgotten to ask Garrett about the play itself and she tried to hide the blush that rose to her cheeks at her own mistake.

She’d barely had time to reply before she was meeting the next of the group.  The actors came in a group, lead by Garrett in a mass around her.  She caught some names, missed others.  There was an incredibly tall man with an eyepatch called Bull who’d been cast as Oberon, King of the Fairies, flanked by a group of others that had been introduced to her as playing the actor troupe.  There was a group of girls playing Titania's fairies: Sera, Lace, and Dagna, and the fairy queen herself, Vivienne.  She was breathtaking in her beauty and poise, and Mira could see just why she’d been cast as both her and Queen Hippolyta.  A man with a wonderfully styled mustache introduced himself as Dorian Pavus, bowing as he took her hand and announced that he was to be Theseus, Duke of Athens.  Then she was whisked away by a blonde man, declaring himself Zevran Arainai.  He then when on to proclaim that he had more than _sufficient skill_ to steal the show, as he would be Puck.

Emmalee Trevelyan, Isabela, and Cremisius Aclassi came next in the long list of introductions.  They hung around with her for some time, the three playing the part of the four lovers with Garrett, helping navigate the different parts of the theatre.  They offered to show her the rest of the building, allowing Aveline to head back to her office, the amount of faces and names becoming a blur.  She liked the trio immediately as she talked, and joked, and got to know them, Isabela and Emmalee even going as far as to invite her to their girl’s night out that weekend.  

She’d only had one more person to formally meet when she heard a familiar voice from behind her.  “Hey, you’re back!”  Before she could reply, Alistair pulled her into a tight hug, a giggle escaping her when her feet left the ground as his height left him to lift her a little.  “I’m so glad.”

She couldn’t help but smile when he released her, seeing him beaming down at her.  

She couldn’t help the flush that crept across her cheeks either as his arms still stayed around her middle.  Realizing he’d once again lingered, he pulled away, the smile on his face turning sheepish.  “Have you met everyone yet?”

“Almost… just the, umm, stage manager, I think?”

“He’s just by the front office.  Want me to lead you there?”

She knew where it was, had passed the office on her way in, but she couldn’t say no.  There was something about him that just screamed he was a nice guy, one she’d enjoy working with, one she wanted to get to know… and then she bit back the thought, she’d gotten herself in a lot of trouble with thoughts like that before.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Isabela gesturing for the others to stay where they were, shooting Mira a wink before she agreed to Alistair’s offer.   _Maker._  Alistair led them out the theatre and through the main lobby, stopping just behind her while she continued into the office.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him, the smile disappearing from her face.  Of all the people she would have expected to see here, he would have been at the very, very bottom of the list.  He’d changed, oh Maker, he’d changed, but the same man was still there underneath the smoothed curls, the broader shoulders, the heavy stubble, the thick-framed glasses, he was still there.  She could feel the prick of tears at the corners of her eyes as everything from before five years ago came from rushing back to her.

_Cullen Rutherford._

_Fevered touches under cotton sheets, the way his skin had felt against hers that first night together, slow-dancing in the kitchen at three a.m. in the first apartment all their own, the way she’d wake up tucked under his chin feeling that there was nowhere safer in the world._

_Maker. Why him?_

* * *

 

Cullen hadn’t expected Mira to agree.  That would have been at the very bottom of the list of things he’d expected.  The very bottom.

But she was here.

Meaning she had agreed.

It had been five years since he'd last seen her, five long years of missing her.

And he’d hoped that maybe now he’d have a chance to apologize, to begin to mend the gap that had opened between them.  It was a foolish hope, but one that her agreeing to Garrett’s offer had ignited in his heart.

But now he had her standing right in front of him.

And she was staring at him.  

“What are you doing here?”  Maker, it didn’t sound like she was happy about it at all.  Had he been mistaken?

“I work here.”

She arched a brow, her tone unchanging.  “You work here?”

“Yes.  Stage manager.”

A disbelieving snort.

“What’s so wrong about that?”

“Here I am, never expecting to see you again.  And here you are.”

"’Never expecting’...I thought you knew I was here?  Because why would you agree to help Garrett if you didn’t want to see me?”

"He didn't bloody well tell me you were here."  She turned on her heel, stalking away from him.

"Meer, wait!"

She turned and he could see the tears that had begun to roll down her face. "Don't call me that.  Cullen, just… just don't."

And with that she was gone.

He raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, he could already feel the migraine that would be plaguing him that night.  Maker, he didn’t need this, not now.  

He turned to grab his bag, snatching it from the desk before turning to see Alistair leaning against the office’s door frame.

_Please don’t make a joke, please don’t make a joke, please don’t make a joke._

"What was that about?"

_Thank the Maker._

Alistair looked at him expectantly, and all Cullen could do was sigh and admit to himself that Alistair wouldn’t stop until he’d told him at least something, “Long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

 


	3. 8 Weeks Before Opening Night - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter art by the lovely [oblivionscribe](http://oblivionscribe.tumblr.com/post/137240439792/and-wrapping-up-the-giveaway-pieces-is). The main banner, found at the beginning of chapter one (updated to include Emmalee Trevelyan!), by the amazing [captainceranna](http://captainceranna.tumblr.com/post/130653092747/i-had-the-great-privilege-of-making-the-banner-for).

Alistair awoke that morning feeling less troubled than he had since Duncan left.  The imaginary weight that had been resting on his shoulders, the worry that had come with the thought that he would be the one to make things work until there was something presentable to paying audiences, lifted.  

Not that he didn't have new things to rest there… Cullen hadn't told him much, of that Alistair was sure. More than anything, Alistair was surprised at himself for not realizing he barely knew anything of his friend’s past before he’d answered the advertisement when Aveline had been searching for a permanent stage manager for the theatre community productions.  

But he’d told him enough to understand what had caused Mira to be so upset.  His mind wandered to Garrett, and how he didn’t tell his cousin that the man she had once been engaged to once was working on the very same production he was asking her to save.  Alistair was more than surprised that he hadn’t remembered when he’d heard about what had caused their separation in the news five years ago, attributing it to the papers and television and blogs never mentioning any names.  Or how Garrett could want to bring up those memories to either of them again as he thumbed through the old news articles on his phone.

_Speak of the demon._

Garrett's name flashed across the screen and he hesitated for a moment before opening up the message.  Maker only knew what disaster had happened now.  The last time, Garrett had somehow managed to light the stage curtains on fire.  Alistair quite frankly had not wanted to know how, but from the way Garrett had avoided the front offices for weeks, he was sure Aveline had wanted to.

He hesitated at first to swipe to see the message, his bed was comfortable, his body perfectly warm beneath the sheets, and he wasn't ready to start his day yet, not on a day off.  But as his mind raced to all the horrible hijinks Garrett could get himself - and had gotten himself into - his obligations to his workplace eventually overtook the desire of returning to sleep and he slowly slid his thumb across the screen.

**_G: Come to The Gull tonight.  Girls are bringing Mira there._ **

His sigh filled the air of his room, his eyes closing for a moment in relief before they returned to the message.  Alistair's reply was quick, his brow furrowing as he tapped against the screen.   **_And why exactly should I go then if it is just the girls?_ **

**_G: Rounding up the guys – the more the merrier, I say._ **

**_A: Do the ladies know this?_ **

Garrett's reply came several minutes later.   **_No._ **  Followed quickly by: **_be there at 9...  or else…_ ** Alistair half expected a third text to come with a _'dun dun dun dunnn'_ \- it had happened before - but was surprised by Garrett’s actual next message.

**_G: I need someone she actually likes there with me._ **

He set his phone on the bedside table before he flopped back onto the bed, hands running across his face and up into his hair.  This could either turn out into a great night for everyone or it could backfire spectacularly.  With Garrett involved he knew which one the answer would more than likely be.

And then his mind settled on Garrett’s last message.   _I need someone she actually likes there with me._ Mira liked him?  Well… he knew Garrett didn’t mean it in the middle school like-like, but the words made him smile nonetheless.  It was a nice thought to think that even if they’d only met twice so far, she didn’t mind his presence.  Had she told Garrett that?  Or had he just assumed?

He hoped that Garrett was telling the truth.  

If he was going to be working with her he wanted their to be a friendship between them.  He liked her so far, and everyone's comments after she’d left - save Cullen’s - had been about how sweet she was.  And she was.  He let his mind wander through thought’s of her.  She’d smelled so nice when he’d lifted her up into the hug, where he accidentally and very unintentionally held on for a bit too long, but Maker’s breath she’d smelt like vanilla and he hadn’t even realized until he’d set her down that his arms still around her.  She was small, he guessed a foot shorter than him at least, for he’d had to pull her up into the hug.  He’d liked the sound of her laugh as her feet had left the floor.  It was a pretty laugh.  Alistair couldn’t help but think she was pretty too.   _There was nothing wrong with thinking of your new boss as pretty... was there?_

He smiled when he thought of the dusting of freckles over her face, similar to his own.  Of her laugh as she'd followed the lead actors around the theatre.  He'd watched as she met everyone – not that he was a creepy stalker or anything like that , he wasn't – but it had been worth it just to hear her, to see her face light up in a smile – her soft lips turning upwards around her teeth, the sensuous curve of them reminding them of those on her body.

He thought of how those lips would feel against his, how those curves of hers would feel pressed to him.

_Wait... what?_

* * *

 

Isabela had messaged Mira to tell her that there was a dress code for going out that evening, an informal one, but one that they'd kept for all their girl night's.  She would have to wear a dress, that was the rule.  On a whole, Mira hadn't always been a fan of that form of clothing... but if that's what she had to do… She'd gladly do it.

Thankfully, she'd had the mind to pack at least one dress from her apartment in Denerim, a dark purple one that was better suited for daily errands than clubbing, but it was what she had.  And she didn’t have time to shop for a new one, only a couple hours left before she’d have to meet them there.

She was looking forward to that night. If she was going to be spending the next two months with these women, she wanted to get to know them. And a little fun and alcohol would certainly help that happen.

_And it would get her out of the apartment._

Things between her and Garrett had ground to a halt since the day before.  He hadn't even realized she’d left the theatre until at least an hour later. She was sitting, knees to her chest, on her bed, when she heard the front door open and her name called.

She didn't answer.

Didn't acknowledge the repeated knocks against her door, which stopped when Bruno starting growling at the sound from where he sat cuddled against her.

They hadn't spoken. They would have to. But she wanted to put off the conversation for as long as she could. She just didn't want to look at him until her anger subsided. Until she thought she could trust him to be honest with her again.

* * *

 

Alistair tried to keep his thoughts in check the rest of the day.  Thinking of her as pretty was one thing - _he could find someone aesthetically pleasing - couldn't he?_ \- but the moment he thought about turning thoughts into actions he knew he would be lost if he continued down that road.

 _She's your boss, Alistair. Your boss_.

_You've met her twice, Alistair, and your blighted ‘downstairs brain’ is already ruining this. You've already had to take one cold shower. She's your boss, maybe eventually a friend, but nothing more._

_Was planning on going to The Gull tonight a mistake already?_

* * *

 

She’d never been to The Gull before. She'd been expecting a bar that was populated by a younger crowd, dim lighting, and bass heavy music. She was surprised, pleasantly so, that it seemed more in the style of a pub… With a dance floor. Well, that certainly was an interesting idea.

Emmalee was the first to see her, the raven-haired Trevelyan jumping up from her seat to guide her over to their table.  “I’m so glad you’re here, now there’s six of us!  Some of the girl’s couldn’t make it out tonight: Leliana, Dagna, and Lace have work tonight at their other jobs;  Vivienne’s had a family emergency and is spending the night at the hospital; and well, Morrigan and Aveline never usually join us.”  

Mira was almost overwhelmed with the names again, trying to put them to the faces she’d met.  When they’d got to the table, Emmalee could clearly see the furrow of her brow as she worked out the names of the women who were present.  

She halted her steps, leaning in close to Mira as she spoke just over a whisper.  “Isabela you probably remember more from yesterday, since well, you’ve spent more time with her and I.  The other girls are Merrill - you’ve probably met her a couple times right?”  Mira nodded, those were the ones she knew.  “Josephine’s the one in the yellow dress, she handles the theatre’s marketing.  And Sera’s the blonde.  She’s one of the fairies, along with Dagna, her girlfriend.  She’s our resident troublemaker… well, along with your cousin.”

When they reached the table, she greeted each one, a smile from each of them when her hello’s were by name.   _She’d have to thank Emmalee profusely later_.

They spoke for quite some time, about anything and everything, the waitresses coming round for their drinks whenever one was emptied, bringing a fresh one in its place.  They’d told her tales of Garrett’s mishaps, and despite her frustration with him, she couldn’t help but laugh at the situations he’d found himself in.   _Had he really set the stage curtains on fire?  Weren’t they supposed to be fireproof?_

And then talk moved to asking her questions about her work in Denerim or her life before in the Free Marches.  She’d suspected that Emmalee was from there as well, given her accent, and was pleasantly surprised to find someone else was from near Kirkwall, the Trevelyan family hailing from Ostwick.  She asked them similar questions as well, learning a bit more about their lives both inside and outside the theatre.

And then the talk inevitably turned to where it usually turned when drinks were involved.  Love lives… the topic that Mira had been hoping wouldn’t come up.  She didn’t currently have one, not in five years, throwing herself into her work.  But these women all knew each other, already knew each other’s relationships.  Mira was new, and unknown story just waiting to be told.

“So…” Merrill’s smile betraying her excitement. “See anyone cute so far here in Redcliffe? At the theatre?  Any of the boys?” And quickly added.  “Or girls?”

Josephine couldn’t hide her own interest either.  “Oh yes, do tell us!  Or is there anyone in Denerim you left behind?”

Before Mira could even open her mouth to respond, Isabela sent a wink in her direction.  “Alistair certainly has taken a liking to you, could barely take his eyes off you.  He's usually pretty touchy-feely, but I don't think I've ever seen a hug of his last quite _that_ long before.”

“Oh - I don’t - I don’t know about that.  It was a hug.  I - I suppose.”

Emmalee giggled, the sound nearly drowned out by the pre-programmed stereo’s music as it changed to a faster tune.  “Are big, strong Ferelden’s not to your liking?”

“Indeed.  Rumour has it you left the theatre in quite a hurry after meeting Cullen.”  Isabela leaned forward on her elbows, awaiting her answer just as eagerly.

Mira didn't miss the way Emmalee eyes lit up when Cullen’s name was mentioned, and she was wondering if answering would be a good idea.  Maybe he’d changed since then.  His looks certainly had.  Why couldn’t he have?  “Would it be alright if we didn't talk about that?”

“You sure?”

She sighed, taking a long drink of her beer before answering, knowing that eventually she’d have to explain.  It might as well be sooner than later.  “We were engaged a few years ago.  It didn’t work out.  Yesterday was the first time seeing him since then.  Can we not talk about it now?”

Isabela gave her a sad smile, taking hold of her hand and squeezing it once before letting go.  “Sure, kitten.”  

“He was a bit of a tit back then, yeah?”  Sera piped up for the first time from where she sat slumped down in her chair, a row of shots lined in front of her and Mira had to wonder if she was old enough to even be in the bar.

She was about to answer when The Gull’s door opened.

Mira knew she shouldn't have been surprised that Garrett had decided to crash the girl's night out.  She should have known that he'd catch wind of it somehow and want to see if they could mend this knew rift between them over a few drinks.

She was acting childish, that she knew.   But it was going to take a lot more than a night out at a bar to get her to forgive him.  Thankfully, she didn't think anyone had caught her frown as the group he’d brought with him made their way over to their table, pulling a few other unoccupied ones over to fit everyone.  Garrett, Krem, Varric, Zevran, Bull, Dorian, Thom, Alistair, and Cullen then took their seats, outnumbering the girls.  

Isabela was the first to speak, her tone teasing.  “I don’t remember inviting all of you.  But who am I to complain when a horde of handsome men join us.”

 _Mira could complain._ But she bit her tongue.   _Now was not the time._

She caught Garrett’s hopeful smile in her direction before she looked away.  She leaned over to Emmalee, wishing in the woman’s ear.  “I’m gonna run to the ladies.  Which way is it.”

Emmalee took her hand before she was standing, the action pulling Mira to her feet as well.  “If you don’t mind us, ladies and gents.  We’ll be right back.”

The washrooms were across the bar and the door had barely closed before Emmalee was asking her if she was alright.   _She was?  Wasn’t she?_

_No._

And then she was spilling the whole story out to Emmalee, how she and Cullen had met, how everything had fallen apart in one night and the hellish trial that had happened afterwards.  How the man responsible was rotting in prison and how she hoped he’d rot in the Void too.  How Cullen had changed afterwards.  How everything in her life that she had been planning came to an abrupt halt.

Emmalee quietly listened, wiping away her tears when they fell, giving her hand a squeeze when sometimes the words became too much.  When it was over, she asked if she was ready to return to everyone else, and if not that that was okay too.  Mira gave her a soft smile, thanking her and apologizing for the past twenty minutes.   Emmalee said it was nothing, saying that she wanted them to be friends and what else were friends for than for listening to you when you needed it?  

By the time they returned, she found the lights had dimmed, clearly the dancing had started as a live band had set up at the front of the room.

Emmalee offered to go get their drinks at the bar, nodding towards the white haired tattooed man who was serving.  “I’ll be right back, you go and sit, kay?”

Mira nodded her head, noticing that most of their group had started to dance as she sat down.  Save her and Cullen.  He was seated at the other end of the tables, back nearly facing her as he watched the dance floor, quietly tapping his hand against the surface of the table to the beat of the music.

She was feeling guilty for how she’d reacted, but that didn’t mean she was going to ask him to dance with her.  He'd seemed so hopeful when he’d seen her, but she wasn’t ready, not yet.  She’d just wait until Emmalee returned and then maybe they could join everyone else on the floor… not that Mira would do more than sway her hips to the beat.  A dancer, she was not.

But she didn’t have to sit for long, Emmalee still standing at the bar, when Alistair was sitting down in Isabela’s empty seat beside her.  

“I haven’t seen you up dancing yet.”  He turned his hand that was resting on the table until the palm was facing up towards her.  “Want to?”

“I - I shouldn’t.  I’ve got two left feet.”

The grin didn’t falter on his face.  “Then it’s a good thing I’ve got two right ones.”

She didn't have a good reply for that, save a quick smile before her teeth chewed on her lower lip. And then his hand took hers and he was leading her to the dance floor.  His other hand moved to hold her waist when they’d reached the edge of it and she tried to blame the heat rising across her skin on the alcohol.   _Why were her hands so clammy?  Would he be put off by it?  Why was she suddenly caring what he thought about her hands?  Andraste's tits, he's your assistant director, it doesn't bloody well matter what he thinks of your hands because you're his superior._

They swayed for a few minutes, the pace picking up with the music as it quickened.  She had to crane her neck up even with her heeled boots to look at him, lest she still stare at the collar of his shirt.   _Why were Ferelden’s always so tall?_

She gasped when his hand at her hip left her as the hand that was joined with hers raised upwards, barely able to finish the sound before the world was twirling around her.  The sound quickly became a string of giggles as he spun her, the skirt of her dress fluttering outwards.

She was breathless when he stopped spinning her, a smile growing across her face.  But he looked nervous, his hands trembling as he placed one back on her hip.  

“Was that okay?  I’m sorry, just kind of acted before thinking.”

“Don’t be sorry.  I liked it.” She let go a laugh.  “You’re right.  Our feet do go together.”

* * *

 

Alistair was not good at following his own word it seemed.  He’d meant to keep some distance between them.   _Professional distance._  But then he’d seen her sitting at one end of the table alone, save for Cullen who was facing the other way.  And then before he knew it he was asking her to dance.

He hadn’t meant for it to go on for several songs either… but as the music slowed, he pulled her a fraction closer to him and he was trying not to think about how she felt against him.  

He cleared his throat, maybe talking would keep his mind off how she felt so warm, so nice there pressed to his chest.  "So... is everything going alright so far?"

"So far?  I don't start until tomorrow Alistair."

"I know.  I just mean... is everyone being nice to you?"

A sigh.  "You mean Cullen in particular, don't you?"

"I... well..."

"It's okay, Alistair.  He told you didn't he, why I was upset?"

He swallowed, feeling like he was ruining whatever this moment had been between them.  "A little.”  He didn’t like the sadness that came into her eyes when he said the words or the frown that crossed her lips.  “How about we forget I said anything?”

She smiled weakly.  “Alright.”

He searched for words anything to change the subject, blurting out the first thing that came to mind before even thinking those were the exact words he was trying to avoid.  “You look nice - pretty - tonight.”

_Dammit, Alistair._

And then she’d leaned her head against his chest, but he could see the smile she was trying to hide.  And he felt something in his heart he wasn’t sure he’d felt before.

* * *

 

 _He’d called her pretty._  

Now she was sure it wasn’t the alcohol alone colouring her cheeks.  She tried to hide her smile in his shirt, but was probably failing miserably.  

_He’d called her, Mira Amell, pretty.  Maybe she did have a type, because it made her stomach do flips.  Maybe Emmalee had hit the nail on the head.  Blighted tall, handsome Fereldens._

She cast a glance back to their table at thought, seeing Emmalee and Cullen quietly talking, it seemed her new friend had the same taste.  Cullen’s hand was rubbing against his neck, an old gesture Mira remembered from whenever she got him flustered.  She was smiling at the thought before she even realized she was.  Maybe the old Cullen that she used to know, before everything had fallen apart, had come back.

And that gave her something to hope for.


	4. 7 Weeks Before Opening Night

“O, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd!  She was a vixen when we went to school; and though she be but little, she is fierce.” Isabela’s voice rang through the theatre, reaching clearly to where Mira, Alistair, and Cullen sat in one of the rows halfway across the auditorium.  

Emmalee’s accompanying rage-fueled squeal was just as Mira has suggested, and Maker, she was pleased with how her new-found friends were performing.  “’Little’ again!  Nothing but ‘low’ and ‘little’!  Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?  Let me come to her.”

And then there was a great pause. Garrett’s lines were next, but he simply stood where he was onstage - wedged between the two warring women, his back pressed against Krem as they kept their onstage lovers apart.  Emmalee repeated her line, but this time Garrett spoke after, but his words were not his expected line as he turned his attention to Mira, causing her to slump down in her chair.  “Meer? Off book by next week, really?”

If she hadn’t already been ready to scream at Garrett since arriving in Redcliffe, she certainly was prepared to now.  She understood why the predecessor had quit.  With every single direction she had given him, Garrett had had a retort for her on how what he’d had in mind would be better for the entire production.  He’d had problems with her blocking, with the inflections she had suggested, but he’d especially taken issue with the bloody off-book deadline of next week.

“Meer, come on, there’s still two months. You can’t rush learning lines!”

It was Saturday, the all-day rehearsal when the cast had a day off from their regular professions.  They were two hours into the nine hour call and she had only been thinking Garrett was the only problem so far.  Everyone else seemed to be very easy-going with whatever she suggested.  She wondered if she was getting more or less attitude from Garrett since she was his family… more than likely more.  Surely, nothing else could happen that would be worse than his complaining today - could it?

It took only five minutes for Mira to find out how wrong she was.  

They’d barely restarted the scene, Garrett mollified when she extended the deadline by a week in defeat when he wouldn’t let up, arguing with her that First Day was coming up – a month and a half from now – when Sten, the carpenter stood before her, his larger frame blocking her view of the stage from where she sat.  “I cannot work like this.”

“Pardon?”

“I cannot work like this.  My toolset has been tampered with.  My hammer is missing.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I refuse to work further until it is returned to me.”

She didn’t even have a chance to respond before the man turned and stalked out of the auditorium.  

_What in the Void?  Now one of her two carpenters was going on strike… over a misplaced hammer?_

“Well, if he’s not working… postpone the off-script deadline by another week?”  Garrett’s voice was hopeful.

“Andraste’s tits, Garrett!”  And then a snort from Cullen beside her - they’d spoken snatches of words to one another about the play, but not alone about more personal issues yet - causing Mira to let out a long sigh. “Five-minute break everyone.”  And before she could let Garrett continue whatever bronto-shit complaint he had next, she stalked up the aisle and out the door to the lobby.

 _Where could she be alone for five bloody minutes?  Someplace quiet where she could actually think?_ She ran her fingers through her hair.  She’d signed the contract with Aveline, even done an actual formal interview with her for protocol to hire her.  And Mira was too stubborn to back out now that she was here, and she couldn’t handle the guilt that would rest on her shoulders if they had to postpone the entire performance if she did decide to leave.  It was her first bloody day and she was already tempted to convince Garrett to quit instead - but then she’d be without an actor to perform as Lysander, one of the central lovers.  She hated to admit it, but when he actually committed and stopped overthinking every small detail – which was her job, not his – he was rather brilliant.   She fleetingly wondered if the talent carried over to Carver, she’d always gotten along much better with the younger Hawke brother, and if he’d be interesting in performing… but then she remembered that Garrett could be following her out into the lobby at any moment and she couldn’t risk just standing there.  Looking upwards, she spotted the stairs to the technical booth on the second floor - no one should be up there yet, and she moved across the lobby unnoticed as Merrill chatted with a client over the phone at the front desk.  She didn’t barely breathe until she sunk down to the floor as the door shut behind her.   _Finally, alone._

“Well, well, well.  What do we have here?”

Mira’s eyes flicked up, and she knew she should have known better than to think she would be this could be a safe haven here.  “Hello.”

Morrigan sat perched on a chair, knees drawn up to her chest as she flipped absently through her phone, looking more at Mira than at it. “It appears that they have given you their full welcome.”

“I’m not sure that could be called a ‘welcome’. Although I’m scared of what they’d do if they didn’t feel exactly welcoming.  How do you handle being here with them, Morrigan?”

“There is a reason as to why I stay here, with a layer of glass and optional sound-proofing between us.  I have not the patience for their trivialities.”  Morrigan sighed.  “As for Sten, why one hammer is better than another is beyond me.  If it works the nail into the wood, then it is useful.  They are all fools to tolerate such behavior - and the behavior of your cousin, which is why I remain here.  When it comes the time, I need only share this space with Maryden for sound and Cullen to call the cues.  They are both… tolerable enough.  They do not speak any more than what is necessary of us.”

There was a moment of silence and Mira wasn’t sure what to say.

“Come, sit here.”  The raven-haired woman gestured to the seat beside her in front of the lighting board.  Mira stood, taking the offered spot and it was nice just to sit in her company while Morrigan’s attention went back to the small glowing phone screen in front of her.  No fussing, no fighting, just… quiet.

It didn’t last for long.

The door to the booth swung open, relief washing over Alistair’s face as his gaze settled on her.  “Maker, there you are. Everyone’s waiting.”

“I… not yet.  Please?”

“Right…”  He faltered for a moment, hand reaching to scratch his neck in a gesture that seemed all too familiar, just not from him.  But then his face lit up, and that damned fluttering was back that had been in her stomach when they were dancing together at The Gull.  “Want to get out of here for a few minutes then?  Go for a walk, maybe?  Coffee?”

She could feel the smile growing on her face.  “I’d kill for a coffee right now.”

"So long as it’s not my head on the chopping block... I know a great little place to show you.  Come on.”

She hopped up, ready to follow Alistair out the door before she stopped and turned back. “I’ll see you later, Morrigan?”  

The woman gave her almost what could have been a smile before it shifted to a sneer in Alistair’s direction.  “See that you take care of her, buffoon.”

“Whatever you say, witch.”

“Oh, how very eloquent.”

And then Alistair shut the door behind them.

They were barely at the foot of the stairs from the booth when Mira stopped, curious and not exactly pleased with the behavior he’d just displayed.  “I take it you don’t like her?”

“Not in the least.”

“Why not? I quite like her.”  In fact, Mira felt like she could become close with the woman.

He shrugged.  “I’m not always the greatest at first impressions.  And there was that time that I…”

“That time that you...?”  Her arms crossed.

“I may have suggested she looked like her mother once, after I’d met the woman when she came to a show. Morrigan wasn’t fond of that.  Nor me afterwards.  But she seems to like you well enough.”

“Oh.”

* * *

 

They fell silent as they exited from the theatre. Alistair felt a bit like an ass for how he’d acted to Morrigan - especially in front of Mira... and that made him feel even guiltier, that he was only sorry because of her. Maybe he’d try to break the habit and be nicer.   _Maybe._

He took the side closest to the road as they walked, – _a gentleman would do that, right_ ?  It wasn’t far to the place he wanted, barely three blocks away, until the sign above the door for _Ser Perth’s Diner_ came into view.  

“Here we are.”

Alistair knew the small restaurant didn’t look like anything much from the street, but it had its own charms - ones he hoped she’d see as he opened the door and she walked in ahead of him.

There were groups at the various tables around, but the counter was empty for the time being and he led her to it, gesturing that she could order first when the girl at the counter asked what they’d like.

“Large coffee.  Black, please.”

He arched a brow at her, his lips pulling into a frown.  “Well, you’re no fun.”

“And for you, sir?”  The girl at the counter interrupting whatever Mira had been about to say, and Alistair felt a little regret in the way her mouth fell shut before he answered.

“Extra-large latte with vanilla and caramel flavouring… and whip cream, please.”

He reached for his wallet, protesting when Mira offered, saying one coffee wouldn’t break the bank for him and he handed the server the change and a tip.  When he turned his attention back to his director, he found Mira with her arms crossed again, a lopsided smirk growing across her pink lips to accompany the gesture this time. “So that’s fun, huh? Whipped cream?”

“You’ll be jealous of my coffee with your boring one.”

“I happen to like boring.  Boring won’t give you a sugar crash in the middle of the day.”

“Only a caffeine-induced one instead.”

“Now you’re the one who’s no fun.”

He laughed at that and she gave him a giggle in return, falling silent while they waited for his drink, hers being brought to them at the counter almost immediately.  He wanted to say something else, racked his brain to do so, but everything he came up with sounded foolish enough without it being said aloud.  It was only when his whipped beverage was placed in front of them, did she turn towards the door and instinctively his hand reached for hers.

“Wait.  There’s something else.”

“What?  Did you order some other sugary monstrosity when I wasn’t paying attention?”

“There’s something I want to show you.”  And then he remembered his large hand was still wrapped around her small one.  He left go, a little too quickly, before nervous laughter ate at him again. “Follow me.”  

He led her farther into the diner, past the tables lined up out front, back to the booths by the windows.  When they made it to the very last one in the far corner, he gestured for her to sit.  

“Favourite spot?”

“Something like that, yes.”

He sat his back towards the window as he settled into the seat sideways, stretching and laying his legs out across the booth seat.  He had to bend his knees slightly so his feet weren’t sticking out, but it was nearly as comfy as he’d remembered it.

“Exactly how old are you Alistair?  Five?”  Mira had seated herself forward on her side of the booth, eyeing him as he settled in further.

“And a half.”  

She laughed then, again.  He liked it, especially after everything this morning.  They sat in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s company and their coffees. He smirked a little as he snatched glances at her out of the corner of his eye, watching as her brow furrowed, her mouth setting into something akin to a straight line in between each sip of her drink. “Something on your mind?”  It hadn’t escaped him that she’d been studying his face, her eyes hadn’t been looking anywhere else whenever he looked back. Her teeth bit at her lip before she was silent for a moment longer, hesitant to bare whatever thoughts she was having – and he regretted his question, but only for a moment – that worry disappearing only when she answered.

“Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?”  

The words were said almost matter of factly, but then her eyes grew wide after, almost shocked that she had admitted such a thing. He cocked a brow, not sure he was believing the words he had heard either.   _Him, handsome? And from her lips?_ His silly little crush was already getting the better of him, and he hadn’t even really known her more than a week now. _Focus Alistair.  Humour?  Humour might work._ “Not unless they were asking me for a favour.”  Which quite honestly, was true, at least before he had left both the capital city and his family behind for the rural bliss of Redcliffe and anonymity.  And then he stopped, comically screwing up his face in thought.  “Well, there was that one's time in Denerim, but those women were… not like you."  It got exactly what he had hoped for, a laugh from her – and Maker, did he ever like the sound.  "Why?  Is this your way of telling me _you_ think I’m handsome?”

Her eyes rolled in answer as she sat back against the booth wall.  “You _know_ you're handsome, Alistair.”

He made it seem as if he was considering it for a moment, a smile slowly growing on his lips as he did so.  It was an effort not to just let in to the praise, to believe it was anything more than just talk.   _But that’s what it was, wasn’t it?_ “Maybe.  It doesn't hurt to have a pretty girl say that, though. Beats dealing with your cousin any day.”  He watched her for a few moments, letting the silence linger between them as she began to fiddle with the lid of her cup, lifting it off before snapping it back on once more. "So… Is this the part where I get to say the same?”

She didn't raise her eyes to meet his, teeth chewing on her lip once more and he wondered if he had said the wrong thing.  Maker, please let him avoid insulting her at least for the time being – he knew he always had a tendency to put his foot in his mouth quite frequently, but he’d been hoping to avoid that with her. Finally, when she spoke, her eyes lifted, barely looking at him through her long lashes.  Her voice was quiet, and he knew it was taking so much of her to admit even this little bit of truth to him. “Not unless you don't think so.”

He smiled – broadly – and he knew as he said the words that he’d meant them far more than anything else he’d ever said to her.  “Oh, I think so.”

_Just dig yourself in further Alistair with your crush on your boss.  Good job._

He watched quietly as she completely removed the lid, setting it down on the table between her cup and his.  Her eyes didn’t glance up at him again and he’d wondered if he’d said too much.  He meant it.  He did.  She’d told him she’d thought he was at the very least pleasing to the eye - her eyes… and Maker, to him she was already radiant. “I’ll just spring it on you when it's a surprise.”

He’d long finished his coffee by the time she was taking her final sip and immediately, barely before she’d even swallowed, she made to move.   _Not yet. Maker, not yet._ “We don’t have to go back just yet.”  His words were out before he’d even thought better of them, but she flashed him a smile, and he figured that she was still feeling thankful for the distraction.   _It wasn’t like he minded – although he loathed to think of the trouble the cast and crew were getting themselves into while the directors were gone. Cullen and Aveline would handle things, right?_

_Just let him have five more minutes like this one._

She didn’t leave him with his thoughts long, barely having settled back into her seat before she spoke. “Would you…”  She bit at her lip as her fingers worried along the edge of the cup’s rim.

“Mira?”

She chewed on her lip again and his wasn’t sure if she could hear his heart pounding in his chest, but it was deafening to him.  She’d already called him handsome, what was next?  Was he overthinking this?  Surely he was.  He had to be.  It’s not like she’d ask him to make this a daily ritu-

“Would you like to do this more often… maybe?  I mean, if you want to?”  And then before he could answer her words continued on – almost with a nervous energy.  “It’s just – you have an incredible talent for putting people at ease.”

“Maker, yes.” He didn’t think he’d forget the smile on her face at his word for the rest of his days and Garrett’s text echoed in his mind. _I need someone she actually likes there with me._

He swallowed hard, brain searching for anything to say once more, when his eyes fell on something he’d forgotten was there.  “I’ve got something to show you.”

“Something else?”

“You’d asked if this was a favourite spot of mine.  Look on the edge of the table, by the window.”

She quirked a brow - something he felt would be a habit of hers around him - as her eyes scanned the area he’d suggested.  Her fingers reached out when she’d spotted what he’d wanted, running them over the scratches in the wood.  

“You made this?”  He could see her trace the shape of the long-ago memories.  He could practically see Cailan, maybe fifteen at most, sitting across from here, laughing at something Alistair had said.  And how they’d snuck their initials into the wood edge of the table when the servers hadn’t been looking.

He shrugged.  “I think I was maybe ten when we spent the summer here… the ‘C. T.” is my brother’s… the A. T. is mine.”

Her lip pulled up a fraction at one corner.  “So your last name starts with a ‘T’ then, Mr. Mysterious?”

A laugh.  “It might.  Ms. Curiosity.”

“And what might it be?”

“Well, if I told you...”

She snorted and her eyes went wide as she clapped a hand to her mouth.  “Maker, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  You’ve got a beautiful -” _Fuck.  Too late now._ “ - laugh.”

Alistair watched as Mira as her hand slowly lowered, her fingers moving instead to fiddle with the remnants of her empty coffee cup, tearing at the edges, and placing the torn pieces on the table in front of her.  She’d turn the cup as she went around, pulling apart a circular inch at a time before moving downward for the next bit.

“You know… I read somewhere that people only do that when they’re sexually frustrated.”

She looked up, wide-eyed at him.  “Excuse me?”

 _Maker, had he really just said that?  Why was he forgetting to think before he spoke around her?  Oh, right._  He gestured to where her hands were still tearing away at the cup.   _Well, he supposed there was no going back from that comment now._  “There - if you tear at a cup, or at a label it means your…” _Maker, he was putting his foot in his mouth wasn’t he?  Why wasn’t she looking away from him?_  “I’m just going to shut up now.”

They sat there for a few moments in silence, he didn’t dare look up at her again.   _Maker, of all the idiot things he could have –_

“Maybe I am.”

_Had she just?_

He looked up in time to see her cheeks darken and he was sure his were doing the same.  Her words conjured up the thoughts that he had been trying to suppress since the morning before their outing at The Gull, and had been completely failing miserably at.  Her soft lips - he assumed they were soft, they looked it - pressing against his.  His hands grasping onto those thighs of hers, legs wrapping around him.  “I could -” He caught himself barely before he finished the sentence. Swallowing the last three words - _I could help with that._

 _Maker’s breath!  No, no, no, no, no, no. Stop.  They were here for coffee, not for him to proposition her._ He cleared his throat, praying she wouldn’t fill in the gap of his almost sentence.  “We should get back… shouldn’t we?”

_What was he getting himself into?_


End file.
